


Do It Again

by WhyDoIWrite



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: But she shouldn’t have been, F/F, Maybe she's jealous, November Camp, Sweden - Freeform, The Netherlands, USWNT
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:15:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27500626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhyDoIWrite/pseuds/WhyDoIWrite
Summary: "RIP to your relationship, but I’ve been wanting to kiss you. Like... for a long time."
Relationships: Lindsey Horan/Emily Sonnett
Comments: 7
Kudos: 140





	Do It Again

“Are you coming back?”

“Well, yeah,” Sonnett furrows her brow. “I mean, I was going to come back next week, but now y’all are coming over to- ”

“That’s not what I mean," Lindsey cuts her off.

The confusion lines deepen on Sonnett’s face, and Lindsey feels like someone is squeezing her heart in their fist. It’s not for any reason in particular, just because she misses that face. That face that’s so expressive all the time. That face that can’t hide anything, ever. Her heart’s been hurting a lot lately. For longer than she cares to admit, actually. She fears this conversation is going to end with her heart hurting even more.

“I’m going back home when y’all go back,” Sonnett squints at her and tosses her head a little, as if to say, _this is such a dumb conversation, our season is over. I’m not missing Christmas._

“That’s not what I mean either,” Lindsey sighs.

“Well what do you mean then? You want me to tell US Soccer to fly me to Denver, or?” Sonnett chuckles.

That chuckle hurts Lindsey’s heart too, when it used to warm her all over. It’s not Sonnett’s fault, it just _is_. “I certainly wouldn’t say no to that,” Lindsey replies, but it’s half-hearted because she knows there’s not a chance in hell, not when Sonnett hasn’t seen her family in months. Not when she missed Emma’s engagement. Not when she has a girlfriend waiting for her in Atlanta. Not when she’s been without Bagel for so long. Not when she’s already going to have to miss Thanksgiving with all of the people she loves in the place she loves the most.

“I don’t know what I’m doing after Christmas,” Sonnett says quietly, like maybe she knew what Lindsey was getting at all along. “We qualified for Champion’s League…” her voice fades out, and Lindsey gets it. She hasn’t felt this good about herself in a long time. She helped her team get there. It's a big deal. She _earned_ this. “They want me to come back." And then she adds slowly, almost shyly, "They appreciate me.”

That’s all Sonnett’s ever craved, from anyone, Lindsey knows – to be wanted, needed, appreciated. To be valued. Loved. She’s the kind of person who gives so much and so desperately wants a little bit of it back in return, even if she’ll never ask for it. Lindsey also knows that last comment is a dig at the Thorns. She can’t blame Sonnett for it, no matter how much she wants her on American soil again. “Orlando appreciates you,” Lindsey reminds her, because that, too, is true.

“Yeah, I know. I just… I don’t know.” Sonnett rubs her face to cover the repeated, hard blinking she can't seem to stop. She really doesn’t know if she can ever play for them, if she can stomach it. _The wound won’t be raw forever_ , they said. Ten months later, it still feels pretty fresh.

“I can’t wait to see you,” Lindsey changes the subject. Sonnett bristles at that; Lindsey can see it despite their less than stellar connection. “I miss you, Sonny.”

“Why? You have a new best friend.”

There’s a bite to her voice that hurts worse than anything else has hurt during this FaceTime. “Son…”

“What? It’s the truth,” Sonnett cuts her off, and Lindsey’s face burns with guilt. “You said so yourself in an interview. Didn’t think I could be replaced that quickly, but… well… I guess I’m easy to replace in lots of ways.” And deep down, she understands that Lindsey needed someone to fill the void she left behind. She wouldn’t have been protected in the expansion draft and would have been forced out of Portland anyway; at least the Thorns got something valuable for her. Maybe that should make her feel better. But understanding never made anything hurt less, never made anything easier to swallow. “I’m sure camp’s going to be great, getting to see you again from across the room while you hang out with your new best friend, who you can see everyday if you want to. Because you basically live in the same place. Must be nice. Maybe Rose will hang out with me. I don’t think she’s replaced me yet. I mean, she would, if Sam weren't married, so... lucky me, I guess.”

Lindsey just blinks at her. There are times that Sonnett gets like this, times that go back to before a stupid handshake brought a level of shakiness to their friendship that neither one could have anticipated. Times when she shuts down, even around Lindsey. Shuts her out. Puts those walls back up. Those same walls that she so willingly brought down when they met in Portland. It’s always confused Lindsey, how easily Sonnett opened up to her then. How without that openness, they never would have become the fast friends that they did, because Lindsey was too reserved. But then it's like she does it all only to fall back into these moments where she feels too vulnerable to have anything other than a sarcastic conversation. There’s nothing much left for Lindsey to say in those moments. Like now. Nothing that will make this better. Not between them, and not soccer-wise, either. When she gets like this in person, it’s easier. She can be hugged out of it. Or cuddled. Or shoved. Tobin always gives Sonny a hard one when she won’t cut her shit out. But Tobin’s not there either, and there’s nothing easy about this distance - and now disconnect - between them. It’s something no amount of FaceTimes can seem to fix.

“It’s late here. I’m gonna head to bed, Linds. I’ll see you soon, though.”

Lindsey lets her go with an “I love you,” and another “I miss you,” for good measure, because even if Sonnett wants to tell herself that Lindsey doesn’t really miss her, Lindsey's going to be damn sure she knows that's not true. Lindsey’s left with half of her day still, to alternate between sadness for her best friend who doesn’t think she is anymore, and annoyance because Sonnett’s acting like they’re in middle school, and regret because she probably should have gone with her gut and hopped on a plane to Sweden after National Team camp. She cuddles up with Fergy on the couch. He always makes her feel better, and this afternoon is no exception, his snoring making her giggle alone in her condo. That is, until she starting thinking about how much Sonnett probably misses Bagel, and then she feels guilty all over again, for getting this time with him that Sonnett doesn’t get with her baby. She holds him with one arm, aimlessly flipping between apps on her phone with her free hand. At least that provides a distraction. She settles on Scrabble. She’s not the best at it, but she’s not awful either. Still, she refuses to play Rose because she knows that will result in merciless teasing that she can’t handle. She likes that she’s getting better, that it provides a challenge with tangible results, like footy. Tonight, it doesn’t ease her mind though. Tonight, she sees the stupid bright green dot next to Sonnett’s name, for almost two hours after they got off the phone, and that eats away at her.

* * *

“What are you doing?” Sonnett asks as Lindsey pushes past her and into her room. It’s the first day they’ve been allowed to hang out since getting their second round of negative COVID tests. There’s an edge to her voice that Lindsey wasn’t expecting, though maybe she should have been. “I’m watching Tottenham. You don’t even like them.” She wants to lie and say that Kelley’s coming over to watch the rest of the game with her. She thinks it might make Lindsey go away because Kelley’s incessant bashing of Arsenal will annoy her straight out of the room, but that’s not true either. Kelley’s got her best friend back at camp now, too, and Sonnett’s certain they’re watching the game together somewhere. _How convenient that Alex joined the Hotspur family_ , Sonnett thinks, staring up at the ceiling. No one comes to save her.

Lindsey climbs into Sonnett’s bed, ignoring her, but keeping her eyes on the TV. She doesn’t want to know what Sonnett’s face is saying right now, if it’s hurt or it’s angry, or if she’s maybe pleading with her eyes for Lindsey to stay even though her words are intended to push Lindsey away. Lindsey simply pats the comforter next to her and waits, and after a moment, Sonnett slides into bed too, ableit far away. She slumps down on the pillows against the headboard. It doesn’t take long for Lindsey to make up her mind, to scoot across the middle of the bed and snuggle up to Sonnett as if they haven’t been apart for eight months. And truthfully, that one action makes it feel like nothing’s changed. “I still fit,” Lindsey mumbles into the notch in Sonnett's neck that she's always believed was made especially for her.

“Of course you still fit,” Sonnett smooths her hair before kissing the top of her head. She breathes in that familiar smell that is so distinctly Lindsey, and a sense of peace washes over her. She can’t help but let her arm fall across Lindsey’s shoulders. Can’t help but pull her in tighter. Can’t help but let out a deep, relaxed breath when Lindsey throws her leg over Sonnett’s. She can’t be mad, no matter how hard she tries to. Her hurt feelings no longer dominate the morning, even if she wants them to. It’s Lindsey. It’s a lot easier to feel those things on the phone with a continent and a half plus an ocean between them. It’s also really easy to forget that they ever stopped being anything other than Linessi and Dasani right now. Still teammates. Still best friends. Still irreplaceable in each other’s lives. Still something a little bit more that neither has ever dared to speak aloud. But Sonnett being Sonnett can’t quite let it go forever, perseveration part of her nature when she’s stressed. “Where’s your best friend? What’s she going to do all alone? You think she can manage for like a half without you, Linds?”

And Lindsey’s tired of it really, of the comments that started innocently enough, making fun of their new handshake, that are now infiltrating what little time they have together. Because their time _is_ brief; before they know it, a hotel Thanksgiving will have come and gone, the game will be over, and they’ll be back in the States with a whole bunch of miles separating them again. “What do you think your girlfriend would say if she saw us right now?” Lindsey snips back, but her body language doesn’t change, because Sonnett’s didn’t. She lets her fingers purposely play across the silky skin of Sonnett’s stomach to emphasize exactly where her hand is, when she says it.

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” Sonnett says hoarsely, and Lindsey sits up a little to look at her. She clears her throat before continuing. “I’m going back to Sweden. She said she’s not doing a long-distance relationship anymore. The only reason she’s still in Atlanta is so Bagel doesn’t have to be boarded until we go back.” Sonnett breaks eye contact, turning to look out the window. “She’s a good person.”

Lindsey doesn’t know why she says it - to convince herself or to convince Lindsey or because she’s preemptively cutting off the attack that she knows is going to spew out of Lindsey’s mouth any second because she knows Lindsey. “Not good enough!” Lindsey blurts out. There it is. She can’t help it. Sonnett doing what’s best for her career, what’s best for _her_ self, shouldn’t be a reason to end a relationship. What kind of person claims they love you only to give up so easily?

Sonnett turns back towards her. “I’m not worth sticking it out for. Wasn’t for the Thorns. Not for her either.”

Her voice breaks with sadness, and Lindsey's heart breaks alongside her. She would do anything to fix it, to take that pain and turn it into self-belief. In that moment, she finally understands what Sonnett has always said to her _: “You’re so good, Linds. So good. I wish you could see yourself through my eyes._ ” She misses that Sonnett, the Sonnett who saw herself through Lindsey's eyes. That Sonnett who sent balls into the box for her to put in the back of the net and played defense with an almost reckless abandon when the Thorns still believed in her. That same Sonnett she’d talk to in the middle of the night because it was the morning of her gameday in Sweden. She sounded so excited after she got the jitters out of her system in the first couple of games, and that energy she buzzed with easily transferred over the line before every game. That’s what made those nights where Lindsey got to bed late only to wake up early to watch her so, so worth it. That and the almost-swagger Sonny played with as the season wore on. For someone to break up with her over going after what so clearly has brought her peace, has built her confidence, has turned her attitude around after the devastation of the trade… well it’s just not fair. Lindsey doesn’t know her well, and maybe that’s by design, but she doesn’t have to; she hates her for it.

She props herself the rest of the way up onto her elbow, so she can get a good look at Sonnett, so she can run her fingertips across Sonnett’s cheek and try to comfort her. Sonnett has the most beautiful eyes Lindsey’s ever seen. And it’s not like she hasn’t known this, because she has, but right now, they’re breathtaking. _She’s_ breathtaking. She deserves someone who gets it. Who will support her. She deserves the same kind of unconditional love that she gives. So the difference right now, Lindsey thinks, in what she’s seeing and feeling, is that for the first time it occurs to her that she could be that person. She is that person.

It's then that Lindsey makes up her mind again, this time, to kiss Sonnett. She has time to wonder if Sonnett will push her away. Yell at her. Freak out. Kiss her back. She has time to think about whether it will be awkward, like two best friends giving it a go, or if they'll fit together like she imagines they will. She decides it doesn’t matter. She has plenty of time to think the whole thing through because Sonnett just lies there, looking up at her, letting Lindsey trace her features with the pad of her rough thumb. Her cheekbone. Her jaws. Her eyelids, until they’re both closed. And finally, her lips, slowly, back and forth, until they part just enough. Lindsey smiles at that, at Sonnett’s attempt to get enough oxygen in to try to continue breathing normally. It reminds her of when she visited her in Denver one winter and they went for a run. Sonnett tried so hard for so long to act like the altitude hadn’t set her lungs on fire.

She leans forward, shifting her weight, and she’s sure Sonnett feels it. Maybe it’s the increased heat between them. Maybe it’s Lindsey’s breath on her cheek. Maybe it’s the dip in the mattress. Regardless, she feels Sonnett’s hand shoot to her side, just below her ribs, where it rests lightly. It causes Lindsey’s breath to hitch. Causes her to hesitate, not because she’s changing her mind, but because she wants to live in that sensation of Sonnett’s fingertips on her, like she’s giving her permission, or maybe like she's silently begging Lindsey to close the small gap that remains between them.

Lindsey’s kiss is soft and it lingers, in case their first kiss is their last.

It takes Sonnett a moment longer to open her eyes after Lindsey pulls away, like she was waiting to see if more would come. They’re absolutely dreamy now. “What’d you do that for?”

“Because I should have a long time ago, but I couldn’t. Because you’re finally single. I mean, RIP to your relationship, but I’ve been wanting to kiss you. Like... for a long time,” Lindsey rambles, nerves finally overtaking the adrenaline.

“Well why’d you stop then?” Sonnett asks in this almost liquid drawl that makes Lindsey want to melt into her because of how lazy and relaxed it is. Like she’s unbothered. Like she was just waiting for this, too. Like it was always going to happen because they’re Linessi and Dasani. Because there’s nothing frenzied about what they have; there never has been. They’ve always been each other’s comfort; more than that, they've been each other's stillness. Because distance and time and frustrations and hurt feeling weren’t ever going to change things between them. Not really. Not forever.

Sonnett slides her hand around the side of Lindsey’s neck, letting her fingers thread through her long, blonde hair. “I’m going back to Sweden.”

“I know, I heard you. You should. You’re killing it over there. It makes you happy. I _know_ it makes you happy. I always want you to be happy.” Considering how much she misses Sonny, the fact that she doesn’t even hesitate to say all of that surprises her. "I'll come visit you. I should have come. I'm sorry."

"K. I don't have to go back til January."

It almost sounds like an invitation, maybe to Georgia, Lindsey thinks, but she'll wait and see.

Sonnett runs her nails over Lindsey's scalp, appreciating how she closes her eyes and hums at that tingling sensation. "I'll be back in no time," she continues, feeling this pressure to ensure Lindsey that the distance won't be forever. "We'll have camps and friendlies and SheBelieves and the Olympics..."

"I know," Lindsey whispers calmly.

Sonnett gently pulls Lindsey back towards her, feeling more solid about Lindsey's faith in this. She stops just short of allowing their lips to touch. “Do it again.”


End file.
